


The last day of Alderaan

by Gan_HOPE326



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gan_HOPE326/pseuds/Gan_HOPE326
Summary: A man lives one day again and again - the day his planet ends.
Kudos: 2





	The last day of Alderaan

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

I eat breakfast, shower, dress up, and travel to my office, after a quick kiss to Meera, who's still half asleep. The air is clear today; through the window, during my commute, I can see the distant spires of the royal palace shining like spears pointing at the sky. I hear people talk about the last news of the war - a few small clashes between Rebel forces and the Imperial Fleet. Some people sound excited about it, but they're quickly hushed by their more prudent friends. Even here, where anti-Imperial sentiment is widespread, it's not a great idea to be too vocal about it.

Work is the usual tedium, eight hours munched out of my life by too many tasks, just like a school of butcherfish taking a bite each of their prey and being all left still hungry. When I get out, I'm too tired to even want to go rest. I walk too slowly, miss my train. The sun is setting while I'm waiting for the next one, leaning on a parapet, staring at the graying sky.

I can spot something in it; at first I think it's one of our moons, but then, I'm no astronomer, but even I can see something's wrong. The shape is odd, and there is a large, round crater, just in the middle, that I can't remember ever seeing.

The green flash is fierce, unforgiving - light so bright, it seems like it's about to cut through my eyes. I have just the time to be surprised by it before it tears its way through space towards me, it takes all of the sky, drowns my world in a green, blinding darkness.

It lasts only one instant. But for that instant, it is both terrible and beautiful.

* * *

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

I do not immediately realise it is _the same_ day. I do not even realise that everything I remember from the day before, the light included, wasn't just a dream. I start thinking something is odd when I notice the details. Meera's hair spread across her pillow in exactly the same way. The same passenger on the train talking about the same Rebel victory with the same reckless enthusiasm. The same call at work directed by mistake to my desk by a confused operator. 

It's odd at first. It's disturbing later.

I wonder; I read a book once about the Jedi. It was a forbidden book, of course, but my father had many of those, and barely concealed them. It mentioned that the Jedi Knights of old, thanks to their communion with what they called the Force, could see the future in short bursts, and for example, use that power to avoid danger. It's enough to give me pause, and make me think that perhaps some dreams may be more than dreams. For good measure, I push myself to walk faster, and this time, I get the train. I'm sitting on one of the sides, looking out of the window, when I notice it: the same moon, the same crater, like the pupil of a dead eyeball, looking at us, looking at _me_.

"What moon is that?," I ask to the passenger next to me. He only grunts, gives a casual stare, and turns back to reading his datapad. But some overhear the question and check, and soon someone is found who knows all the moons well enough to be absolutely certain that's not one of them, and the hubbub spreads through the train car. They're still arguing, staring, and expressing worry, when the green flash comes.

We're far from where I originally stood, now. Way far. The train is fast, and by now it's almost one twentieth of the planet's grand circumference away.

It doesn't make a lick of difference. The light eats up everything, and then it's all over.

* * *

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

I don't understand everything, but now I understand enough. I don't waste a minute and I don't think about work. I simply call the security forces and explain the danger. _Something_ is coming, and it will hit us, hard. What does it look like? A moon, sort of, but very smooth. With a round crater in the middle. Like an eye. No, it's not _literally an eye,_ that was just a metaphor. Yes, I know the description doesn't fit any known Imperial or Rebel vessel, if it had been a fucking Calamari Cruiser I would have said so. How do you know? I wish I knew. A Force induced vision. Or maybe time travel.

They hang up.

Meera gets up, she finds me distressed, dressing up without having even showered yet. She asks me what's up, I answer brusquely and bolt out. I regret that a bit, but it's too late now, I'm on the train, a different one, the one that stops right in front of the royal palace, packed with tourists and government officials. I run out as soon as we reach the station, causing some protests as I push people carelessly, making my way towards the gates. I know I can not just get an audience with the King or any member of the government at a moment's notice; they will simply consider me a madman. I have long taken my decision. It's a risky bet, but nothing compared to what's going to happen otherwise.

I throw myself shoulder first against one of the guards. The others take a moment to process what's happened, then they jump me all together and start restraining me. I start screaming about how the palace will be destroyed, enough for them to decide that I may be a terrorist, that I may know something, to drag me back to the palace, down to an interrogation room. A room that doesn't look like it's meant for people who will talk easily.

Of course, talking is all I want to do.

When their superior, a captain from Alderaan's royal guard, arrives, I explain the situation very calmly. I know about an imminent attack. How do I know? No matter. I may have, I suggest, certain seditious frequentations. I do not care for them. In fact, in exchange for a light treatment, I might just be convinced to spill the beans. However, the attack is critical, they must act to prevent it now, or we will all die. I do not specify how big that 'all' is; I do not know myself, and I do not want to voice my most atrocious fear. Nor would they believe. The captain listens to me intently, chatters a bit with another guard. Whispers something. A lot of men stream away from the room. I'm left alone with him. 

This is unnerving, and not what I expected.

"Let me see if I understand this clearly," he says. "The Rebel Alliance is about to attack this place. You know the details of the attack. And you are also willing to betray your companions, revealing their names to us."

I nod.

"Well, I know nothing of any attack," he says. "Either that's bullshit, or I'm not supposed to know."

Oh. Oh, no. 

"But either way, we can't have someone go around and reveal important secrets."

I had heard it said. That the royal family secretly supported the Rebellion, that they were in cahoots, even, that the Princess might actually be running jobs for them. It was something people whispered, a conspiracy theory, I did not _think..._

"Interrogations can be brutal affairs. Sometimes, they go too far," said the captain. "But don't worry. What I'll have to do to make it look like an accident, I'll do to your corpse. As a former Rebel, even if a traitorous coward, I can extend you the mercy of a quick death."

A single hand chop to the neck, precise and fast. Everything ends like this.

* * *

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

My hand runs instinctively to my neck as I gasp for the air I felt leaving my lungs to never go back. Another plan failed, almost. But now I know something that perhaps I can use to my advantage.

Meera has barely asked me what's going on when I'm already running out. Train. Royal palace. Guards. Interrogation room. I repeat every single step like the last time, but this time I change my music. The attack, I say, will be launched by the Empire.

"Why would the Empire attack its own planets? What nonsense!," says the captain, and I can see his eyes running instantaneously to certain guards, only certain ones, the _loyal_ ones, I realise, the ones that aren't in in this little local Rebel cell. It's not everyone. This makes things harder.

"I can not say that," I reply. "But I can assure you, it will happen. I was serving onboard the ISD Constrictor before-"

Everyone freezes. The captain gives me a wide eyed stare. I feel the hand of one of the guards behind me grabbing my shoulder. 

"What did you say?," asked the captain, slowly. "Repeat that."

"I was serving onboard the ISD Constrictor," I repeated, patiently, as if I actually knew whether there even was one. "I left when I learned of the plans to-"

"It's a confession," says the guard behind me, coldly.

"Indeed," the captain pinches the bridge of his nose. "I imagine there's not much else to discuss."

"What?," I ask, confused. "What are you talking-"

"On your feet, deserter," shouts the guard, and he drags me up from the chair. I'm grabbed from both sides, pushed against the wall. The metallic muzzle of a blaster presses against my temple.

"You are here found guilty of dereliction of duty, desertion, and disclosure of classified information from the Imperial Fleet," recites the captain, with a tired voice. "As per the Imperial Directive #4562, the penalty for that is death, to be dealt instantly and without recourse. Kess, would you let me do the honours?"

The guard behind me hesitates. "Sure, captain."

The blaster is withdrawn. A _different_ one pushes against the other side of my head.

The captain comes close, and when he's in such a position that the other guards won't see his lips moving, he whispers into my ear. 

"You were stupid, my friend. My hands are tied now. But rest assured, I will look into the attack you talk about."

I don't have the time to feel relief at the thought before the blaster bolt explodes my brains.

* * *

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

I scream. I don't know if the captain failed, and whether I should be grateful at that for being alive or angry at another defeat, or if he succeeded, and this loop simply will never end.

Meera is awakened by my scream, she bolts up from the bed, then gives me a death stare. I don't care. Then she's worried. I still don't care. I'm up and about, now, browsing the local net, checking our bank accounts, with only one thing in mind.

Before tonight, we're leaving this fucking planet.

Spaceships for sale are expensive, too much for me. I could sell the house, but there's not enough time for that. Spaceships for rent are cheaper, though, even the luxury models. And it's not like I will have to return it. There's a company renting small yachts for interstellar cruisers. That's perfect. I pay them three months' worth of salary, get the ticket, take a note on the spaceport. Then I finally pay attention to Meera, who, I think, has been shouting at me for the whole thing.

"We're going on a trip," I say.

She looks at me with a completely crazed stare. "What," she says.

"We're going on a trip. I've rented a yacht. It'll be great!"

"A trip. And... your job?"

"Screw my job! Look, this is important, we have to..."

_Leave this planet by tonight, or we'll die with it, as I have seen multiple times because the Force or something else keeps making me relive this day_ doesn't sound like something she'll believe easily.

"...get away, because, huh..."

Well, she won't like it. But I can explain everything afterwards.

"...embezzled some money, at work," I say, finally. "And it's really better if we leave, or I'll be arrested."

She explodes in rage. How did I even _think_ about doing that, how do I _dare_ to ask her to abandon her whole life at the drop of a hat, and sure, I feel her, she's perfectly right, but this is _really not the time_. The shouting increases, me just egged on by the feeling of urgency, Meera ever more distrustful and incredulous. Then she grabs her stuff and bolts for the door, and I can't allow that.

"Move," she says, trying to keep a hard stare but now slightly scared, as I block the way with my body.

I don't know what to do any more. This has gone all as bad as it could, I screwed it up, but I don't _want_ to keep trying my luck, and if I can't save this world, I can at least try to save our lives. There will be time to explain. There will be time to make amends.

Right now, there is  _no_ time. There are about two hours left.

I grab her, hoping that I'll be strong enough to hold her without a need to hurt her. She tries to scream and bite the hand I put over her mouth, but I manage somehow to drag her out. The complimentary speeder that came together with the yacht's rent has been left right in front of our house - if you're willing to pay good money, the service is top notch. I toss her in the trunk, drive like a madman to the spaceport, park right next to my assigned yacht. I check that no one is watching, then I open the trunk and drag her out.

She's stunned, confused, crying, and in pain. She curses me in a low voice. It doesn't matter, not now, not now. I pull her with me, on the ship. Tie her to a chair. Take the helm, and as fast as possible - only twenty minutes now! - I drive it out of Alderaan's atmosphere.

Space should be cold and scary, but right now, it is a relief. I barely even know how to pilot this thing, but it doesn't much matter; I don't need to do the Kessel Run with it. Alderaan is a bright pearl of white and green behind us; in front is the grey mass of the one-eyed moon. 

The time is now. The eye lits up, and a green beam tears through space. It hits Alderaan, and even Meera is speechless now, all her pain and fear forgotten and replaced by much worse ones, because-

It explodes.

In a single ball of fire, in an instant, the _entire Force-damned planet, it-_

"I didn't think-," I say. Of course, I _did_ think. I just did not want to _believe_.

"What was that?," shrieks Meera. "What has-"

"I couldn't tell you, you understand?," I plead, crying. "You would not have believed me. I could not tell you."

"WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT HAPPENED?"

She's in shock. I would be as well, if this was the first time I lived through this. No, well, it _is_ the first time. I've never lived _through_ it; not yet.

An infernal scream resonates through the hull. The radar bleeps a warning. A red light turns on. It's the beacon that activates when Imperial military craft are intimating you to stop.

"No," I mutter, "no, no, no..."

It's a full squadron, four TIE Fighters falling on us at top speed. They made a first flyby to identify us, and are now turning and charging their weapons. They won't ask questions. Whatever happened here, this is not the sort of stuff you leave _survivors_ of.

I steer the yacht fully to starboard in a mockery of an evasive maneuver. I'm probably just offering them a bigger target. This would be a clumsy, slow, fragile ship even for an ace pilot; and an ace pilot, I am not.

The volley instantly pierces shield and hull. I always wondered if when a ship is destroyed, you die suffocated in the vacuum of space, but luckily, I don't even survive the explosion.

* * *

I wake up to a day of bright light and comforting warmth.

I don't do anything for a while. I simply stare at the ceiling. 

What is the point of this all? Why am I being made to repeat this day - and by whom? Is there something I should do and I'm missing? I thought I had to save the planet, somehow, but how should I do it? I can't even safe my own or Meera's life. There are many other things that I could try, but I feel exhausted, and I dread failure. I don't know if I could take any more failure.

Meera's so beautiful, I think. It was like I kind of forgot, through all of this. I cringe at the memory of what I did in the last loop - the feeling of her struggling still lingers on my fingertips, and I'd almost bite them off to make it go. No, I won't do that again. It would be pointless anyway.

Half an hour later, I'm back to bed with a tray. There's cookies I baked and an aromatic Corellian tea that we saved for special occasions. The smell wakes her up, slowly, sweetly.

"Hey," she says, with a smile, "what's the big day? Shouldn't you be to work?"

"Screw work," I say, and shrug. "I just wanted to spend this day with you."

"Oh."

She's puzzled, but not in an unpleasant way. Guess she thought I didn't have this in me. She's not entirely wrong, of course.

She laughs. "Well, just don't make it a habit," she says. "I like it, but we sort of need the money."

"Money comes and goes. Time only goes," I reply, and it's a strange and sad thing for me to say, so she gets up to hug me. I lose myself a bit in the soft feeling of her body, the smell of her hair and skin, and her chest pressing against mine.

"Let's make it go well, then," she says.

We drink and laugh. We slide back in the bed for a while. We lose ourselves in the morning, the day. And at some point during it, as I'm on the edge of forgetting what awaits us all, I realise that maybe this was it. This was the reason. This quiet, this peace, this love we had not experienced in months.

It never was about changing the future. It was about enjoying what little present we still had.

"Come out," I finally say, as the sky browns and darkens, and night approaches. "I want to feel a bit the breeze. It's such a nice day."

"Well, we have to make dinner-" she objects, but I kiss her lightly to stop her there.

"It doesn't matter," I say. "Trust me."

She follows me, perhaps still worried about this strange melancholic mood of mine. But ultimately, I think she believes it. That it will all be alright.

I believe it too.

We sit together on the grass, arms around shoulders, holding tight.

Meera squints at something in the sky. "What's that moon? I don't think I've ever seen that crater."

"Oh, don't mind the moons," I shrug. "We have far too many of them."

She chuckles and leans on me again. We stay like there, huddled, on the grass, at the perfect centre of this beautiful world, and we look together at the last sunset of Alderaan.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this story came to my mind at the beginning of the current pandemic - so it's not exactly happy. You could consider it a sum of my feelings about what it is like to live in a world that seems to be crumbling, and your powerlessness in the face of it. It's quite pessimistic, in a way, and I'm not always like that. Just sometimes.


End file.
